


Tales of a Graven Daughter

by NightingaleTrash



Category: Thief (Video Game 2014), Thief (Video Games)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Drabble Collection, Gen, Mentions of Suicide, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:22:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23631550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightingaleTrash/pseuds/NightingaleTrash
Summary: A collection of drabbles following Vaylin, my Thief OC, during her time in the City and her experiences during and around the story of Thief 2014.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	1. Patience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vaylin's always had a knack for sticking her nose where it doesn't belong. Tonight that's of use to a Master Thief.

Vaylin was no stranger to skulking around in places she didn’t belong, watching and listening for anything that might be important. It was a skill finely honed from years of being a nosy child with a penchant for ignoring her elders and sticking her nose where it didn’t belong for the sake of adventure. Back when her appetite for excitement and exploration had been insatiable, and had landed her into all sorts of trouble.  
Until a year ago, however, it had also become her means of keeping bread on the table. People in the City paid to know things and have messages passed along discreetly, and people like her were happy to do the job if it meant staving off hunger for a few days longer. Now her father had returned home from his long imprisonment in Moira, and her skulking and spying had found new purpose. 

But tonight she had already finished the task set before her. She’d crept around the alleys and passages that were lit by low-hanging lanterns, and followed the trails of scattered rose petals to get a sense of the situation outside of the House of Blossoms. Had even stopped by the servant’s entrance to sneak a quick chat with Portia, or Chamomile as she was otherwise known, about the nightly goings on inside the House itself and what the situation was like this evening. Now she was waiting. In the shadows of course; no need to attract attention by milling around in the open for the whole world to see. That would lead to questions, and the last thing she needed was for the Eel Biters or the Baron’s Watch to be the ones asking them.

Riverside was far from being her favourite place in the City; with the Eels being every bit as nasty as the Watch, the putrid stench of raw sewage drifting up from the stagnant canals and waterways, and the muck that threatened to suck her boots free from her feet if she roamed off of the main streets, it didn’t make an effort to be pleasant in the slightest.  
Meanwhile the dockfrocks either clung to every corner in search of clients or plied their trade in back alleys and rundown hovels, and some nights the salt in the breeze felt… thicker than usual, if that made sense. She often found her mouth going dry and her eyes feeling crusty in Riverside on those nights, so the sooner she could get away from the salt-heavy sea air, the better.

As if she could simply leave after she gave this Master Thief the rundown of what she had learned. Constantine had gone trotting off some while ago, tail held high like it always was when something had his attention, and he hadn’t come back yet. 

While she was certain that he could slink past the guards that patrolled outside the infamous House of Blossoms without any trouble, she couldn’t help but fidget every moment he was gone as a horrible anxiety scraped the inside of her skull. The Watch wasn’t known for its fondness of cats. If any of them saw him, they might decide to use him for target practice, or think that he might make a nice hat, or something else equally horrible. Constantine was the one friend she had in the world that she could depend on without question (and the only one who guarded her bed while keeping her feet warm every night). She didn’t want anything bad to happen to him just because she’d let him go trotting off.

But if she went looking for him, she’d miss the Master Thief - Garrett, her father had told her - and then what good would her watching and listening have done? 

So she waited. And waited. And waited some more. And just when she started to wonder if Garrett had somehow slipped by without her notice, he finally appeared. 

He was shorter than she’d expected, and clad from head to toe in black leather with a cloak wrapped around his shoulders. He wore a hood, had a mask pulled up over the lower half of his face, and on his back he carried a bow and a quiver of arrows. He also didn’t seem to have spotted her immediately, as she had tucked herself in the crook of the wall, deep enough in the shadows that she was entirely invisible from afar, and up close you’d have to walk straight past the gate that barred the way into the House of Blossoms, and there was no point for anyone to do that. So she stepped out of her dark corner to make herself just about visible and beckoned him over. 

He hesitated a moment and raised a brow before carefully making his way over, tugging down his mask to reveal his face. It caught her off-guard.

The right half of it was covered in a twisting scar reminiscent of a lightning strike, spreading down from his eye and cutting at his lips and up into his eyebrow. But somehow even more noticeable was his right eye. At first glance it looked like it might be blind with cataracts; clouded over with no visible pupil. Except she’d seen plenty of folks with cataracts and none of their eyes were a bright, almost spectral green that looked like it might just be glowing in the dark. It was hard to tell if it really was, or if it was just that bright a green that it _looked_ like it was glowing. It was also an absolute mismatch with his other eye, which was dark brown and perfectly normal in every way.

Up close Vaylin got a better look at him and realised he was not only shorter than she’d imagined - which was only partly explained by the natural curl of his shoulders and bend of his knees - but he was thinner too. He had the look of someone who’d not eaten well in a long time and she recognised the signs of adjustment in his gear. Well worn holes in the harness sitting higher than the fastenings of the buckles, and laces looking just a bit longer than they ought to suggested that they’d had to be tightened up recently. 

He was hardly the picture of perfect health, but with the way things had been the last year why would he be? If he was here, he must be up to the job. Why would her father hire him if he wasn’t?

She decided against commenting. She doubted he’d appreciate it. 

“Garrett, I take it? My father said you’d be coming." 

"Must have, if you’re here waiting for me,” he huffed. The tension in his body held. Still on guard. Not surprising. You didn’t survive long in this city by being stupid. 

“I guess. Though tonight’s not exactly my usual. Usually I go where I think I can learn useful stuff. Not every day the old man sends me somewhere specific, not unless he has something in mind.” She shrugged. “But then, it’s not often he hires someone like you.”

Garrett raised a brow but said nothing. Impatient. Just here for information, not a chat. Fair enough. Best to be straight down to business.

“Did some looking around a while ago. There’s your bog standard guard patrol on the way in, but there’s a good number of blind spots you can take advantage of too. There’ll even be a nice escort for you to follow; some noble went in just a little while ago and no doubt will have a little retinue that should be easy enough to follow to the entrance.

"The real problem will be inside. I spoke with a friend who works in the House, and she says that the Thief Taker General is here tonight collecting Black Tax, which means more guards on the inside than normal. And knowing that sleazy bastard, he’s going to take his time indulging himself rather than just taking his money and going. You’ll have to be on your guard. I hear he’s none too happy about you stealing that ring out right from under his warts.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Garrett snorted as he turned to enter the alley. 

Vaylin frowned. "You realise I’m not done yet? Trickster’s eyes, you’re impatient.“ 

She shook her head as he paused and looked at her expectantly. 

"My friend also tells me that there’s a rumour about Madam Xiao Xiao. Some of the girls are saying that she has some sort of passage in her office for peeping in on the clients. Y'know, collecting their dirty little secrets. But the House was always part of something older, and the Madam cares about secrets besides her clients’ pet kinks and perversions. My bet is that the passage is part of the older bits of the House, the parts even the Madam hasn’t explored yet, and might just lead you to this book that my father wants.”

Garrett had the decency to at least raise a brow in a look that could be generously described as mildly impressed, or at least surprised that she’d given him a decent jumping off point for his search. He’d clearly not expected much, which she tried not to take personally. He didn’t know her after all. Had no prior reasons to get his hopes up that any information she’d provide would be accurate or useful.

‘ _Catch enough fish, one’ll have gems in its mouth_ ,’ she thought wryly. It was something her mother used to say. And it got the point across, strange as it was.

“Guess I’ll be headed for the Madam’s office then,” he said dryly as he began to turn away again. “Thanks for the tip." 

"You’re welcome. Also, just so you know, once you reach the actual doors of the house, there’s a gap over the wall to the right you can use to get inside. I’d have asked my friend to slip you in the servant’s entrance, but she’s already risking her job just telling me what she knows,” she added, folding her arms. “And no offence, but no one’s going to mistake you for the cabaret act. Leather or no." 

At that remark his lip actually quirked into a smirk. 

"And here my whole plan was hinged on that." 

"Well I’m sure you can improvise well enough to make up for it. Or, y'know, try your plan anyway and see if anyone buys it. Never know. You might strike gold." 

He actually looked faintly amused, which she guessed was the closest she was going to get to approval tonight. It was better than an annoyed roll of the eyes, which was more of what she had expected based on what little Basso had told her the last time they had spoken about the Master Thief.

Not long after Garrett vanished, Constantine returned, slinking his way through the open gate. He looked rather disgruntled and his pupils were angry, narrowed slits, but otherwise he had all of his fur, no extra holes, and tail was flicking back and forth agitatedly. Annoyed, but (more importantly) unharmed. Something hadn’t gone his way at the very least. Maybe a mouse or a rat gave him the slip.

Vaylin raised a brow and scooped him up off the ground.

“You didn’t run into trouble, did you?” she cooed, scratching him behind the ears.

He made a throaty noise - his way of communicating his disdain - which quickly gave way for purring.

“Yeah, I don’t like the Watch or the nobles either,” she agreed. “We’ll see if we can sneak some tuna to make it up to you before Jacob tries to send us off to dig up dirt on the Keep again. Like he thinks that’s something people just _talk_ about.”

Constantine made his disdainful noise again as he settled himself around Vaylin’s shoulders, making clear his own opinion of Jacob, and the pair set off into the dark.

(Sketch of Vaylin, drawn by me)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a lil drabble I wrote during a sleepless night for tumblr. But I'm actually kinda proud of how it turned out, and [Haethel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haethel/pseuds/Haethel) suggested I post it here to AO3 sooooooo here we are. Thank you for the encouragement, and I'm glad you liked the drabble ^^
> 
> EDIT: I'm writing more drabbles now apparently, so this is where I'll be posting them from now on.


	2. Safe Haven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A run from the law leads to an awkward encounter of sorts. Vaylin can't help but wonder if she's being setup, for all her strange luck.

Sometimes Vaylin had to wonder if the Trickster was real, and, if he was, if he enjoyed making a fool of her.

If he did exist then the answer was yes, he absolutely enjoyed making her look foolish. If he didn’t, then she had an extraordinary knack for winding up in all the strange situations she found herself in. 

There had been the time she had to jam herself in a crate of salted pork after being caught eavesdropping on some Eelbiters (well it had been Chokes himself actually, and she'd permanently lost a taste for pork after that mess), and that other time she and Portia had had to cram themselves into a cupboard in the House of Blossoms while the guards searched for an intruder (after that she swore off of sneaking inside the House ever again because it wasn’t worth risking Portia’s job just to steal an hour of her time), and once she had to convince a high ranking Watch Officer named Burke that she was a lady-in-waiting for a visiting lady from Illyria who held him in very high regard and _actually succeeded in doing so_ (he'd since learned that that was a lie and had had it out for her ever since). 

But this was a new low, even for her.

She had been making her rounds in Blackfurrow, delivering blankets and bundles of herbs to those most in need of them, when Constantine had laid his bright yellow eyes on a rather large rat. Missing an eye and half of its tail, it had probably outrun him before, and Constantine was a feline with a disproportionate amount of pride. Enough pride that he didn't care that he had chased the damned thing right out onto Baron's Way, only that he'd caught it and ended its miserable little life with a single squeeze of his jaws. 

As if he hadn't run right into the midst of a Watch patrol. 

Vaylin didn't know if he had burned through all nine of his lives or if he was the luckiest cat that the City had ever seen, but somehow, miraculously, he'd survived. It had helped, of course, that she had had access to several loose bricks, a wooden board, and the element of surprise. It had given both cat and Graven enough of a head-start that they had gotten out of crossbow range before the patrol could gather their wits quickly enough to give chase. 

With Constantine clutched to her chest, Vaylin had pelted her way up the street until she reached the Clocktower Plaza. The tower itself was supposed to be haunted and so no one ever went in there. And that was the driving thought behind her even thinking to do so: the Watch wouldn't want to search it, and they wouldn’t think that she would dare go inside in the first place. It was a blind spot, and that made it the perfect hiding place. 

And obviously she wasn’t the only one who thought so because right now, with an incredulous - and definitely suspicious - look on his face, Garrett was staring down the shaft of an arrow at her from a platform overhead. 

Vaylin stared back, briefly taken aback at his being here too. For a place no one ever went into, two people made it suddenly feel quite crowded, and perhaps not as good a place to hide as she had previously thought. Maybe he was thinking the same?

Obviously he’d thought that someone who was after him had found his hiding spot, hence his pointing a weapon at her. Maybe he’d thought that the guards had finally had enough of dancing around the obvious choice and had finally decided who was going to investigate, or someone had actually become desperate enough to be motivated by the promise of 500 gold pieces to try and corner him.   
Usually that idea was considered a stupid one given that Garrett was infinitely more skilled (and therefore more dangerous) than any of the poor and destitute in the City, but in times like these, a single coin was the difference between living or dying. Five hundred of them could keep a person alive for weeks, longer if they were smart. What could possibly be worth more than that?

‘A stupid cat who chases rats into Watch Patrols, apparently,’ she thought grumpily, as if she wouldn’t do it again.

It seemed that realising the intruder wasn’t a Watchman or someone inclined to fetch one caused Garrett to relax a minuscule amount, but he still regarded her suspiciously and while he did lower the bow, he kept the string taut, ready to whip upwards and fire if need be. As her eyes adjusted to the dark interior of the Clocktower, she realised that the arrow didn’t have an ordinary arrowhead. A small canister that looked like it would burst open on impact was attached to the end instead. She didn’t know if that made her feel any better about it being pointed at her.

“What are you doing here?” he growled, to which Constantine hissed back as he glowered daggers at the Master Thief.

“Hiding,” Vaylin replied, readjusting her grip on her cat. “This stupid taffer ran right into the Watch. Figured they wouldn’t risk sticking their noses in here. You?”

He didn’t answer immediately, eyes narrowing slightly and then moving over towards the door. She looked over her shoulder towards it too and realised he was listening for sounds of approach or Watchmen arguing over who would have to go in. After a long minute of silence, however, it became apparent no one else would be coming through the door, and he slowly removed the arrow from his bow, which he then shouldered.

“Leave,” he said tersely.

“But-”

“Now.”

He didn’t say another word, just hopped to another platform that was bolted to the wall. As Vaylin watched, she realised there were a couple more like it, and then a final larger platform with a rope and winch that lead upwards towards the top of the tower-

Oh.

The pieces clicked into place. She hadn’t just stumbled into a hiding spot of his. She had stumbled right into his safehouse. 

“Well. Shit,” she muttered, unconsciously tightening her hold on Constantine as he tried to wiggle free in pursuit of the Master Thief above, growling deep in his throat. Vaylin paid it no mind, her thoughts were elsewhere.

It explained why he had been so unhappy to see her. He clearly didn’t think much of the Graven or their cause even if he did take their money. For her to come barging in, unexpected and uninvited, would obviously have him on edge. She would be too if someone barged into her home, especially if her survival depended on people not knowing where she lived (which it kind of did nowadays, seeing as her father was the one speaking out against the Baron).

It was probably best to do as he said and not push her luck. No need to go alienating someone that her father might need to call upon again in future. If Garrett wanted her gone, then they would need to get back to Blackfurrow without attracting anymore attention than they already had. It already felt like a monumental task.

“We should go,” she murmured to Constantine, turning back to the door.

The cat was still growling, his eyes still fixed over her shoulder, so she didn’t put him down as she cracked it open to check that the coast was clear. She really didn’t need him running off again tonight, not with the Watch on the lookout for him.

There was shouting about an unauthorised animal and an assailant on the loose down in the plaza, with members of the patrol she had run into interrogating a pair of young men who looked rather alarmed at having been accosted on their way to the pub. Others were giving another patrol a run down of the incident - “a young woman assaulted a couple of our men before she ran off with a black and white cat; reddish hair and dressed like a Graven. No way that the General would have authorised the likes of her” - who listened intently and reported no sightings before apparently joining the search with weapons drawn.

She swallowed. That was a lot of swords and crossbows, and they were searching for her specifically. Of course. Throwing bricks and hitting a Watchman with a wooden board before blocking a crossbow bolt with it never went over well. A year ago they’d have stuck her in a cell for a month to teach her a lesson. Today? They’d probably just get it over with and hang her from a noose.

She pulled the door shut again, pulling up her mental map of Clockwork Plaza. She’d slipped past Watch patrols in the past, but rarely angry ones, and she’d never done it while trying to carry Constantine. Ordinarily she would either go one way while he went the other and then meet somewhere in the middle, or he would follow at her heels.

Tonight she was too on edge to trust him to do the former, and the latter still risked him getting hurt or killed. Later she would reflect on all of this and realise that she was at much larger risk than he was and he would probably have been fine, but at the time her anxiety took precedence. The new laws and mass exterminations had rattled her somewhat so far as her feline companion went.

If she was going to pull this off, she’d need the utmost patience, perfect timing, and a good bit of luck if she was going to stay unseen. And perhaps a certain Master Thief knew this and realised that the odds weren’t on her side.

“Just. Make sure you leave as soon as the heat’s died down,” Garrett grumbled.

Vaylin blinked and looked up at him in surprise, not quite certain that she’d heard him right. He certainly looked distinctly uncomfortable as he turned away to continue his ascent back up the Tower, which would have to be confirmation enough that he was letting them stay.

She wasn’t going to complain though. In fact the relief that overcame her was enough that Constantine slipped loose of her previously iron grip and dropped to the floor. Only then did she realise that he had carried the rat all the way here, dropped it to hiss at Garrett, and was now settling down to enjoy the spoils of the reckless escapade that had led them here.

Making a small noise of disgust, Vaylin flopped to the floor beside him.

“If you _ever_ do that again, then I won’t be saving your furry arse. Understood?”

Constantine gave her a disbelieving look, blinked slowly, then returned to his meal.

“Yeah yeah, I know, I love you too much. Ugh. I should’ve let that Watchman drown you all those years ago.”

He didn’t bother responding this time, just tore off what remained of the rat’s tail, taking a good part of its rear end with it and allowing its guts to start spilling out the bottom. 

But just as Vaylin thought that it was going to be a long, cold night sitting on the cold stone floor at the bottom of the tower while waiting for the chance to leave without being seen, something fell from overhead and hit the stones with a heavy (but thankfully muffled) ‘thump!’

She flinched, but then realised that it was a folded up blanket that had fallen. Or rather, that had been dropped. Then she blinked in surprise. He was giving her a blanket...?

Well then. Maybe the Trickster was having his fun tonight, but at least the Master Thief wasn’t completely without a heart.

“Thanks Garrett,” Vaylin said with a grin, knowing that he didn’t see, and probably didn’t hear either, but she took the gifted blanket regardless and spread it on the floor to sit on. It was still hard, but the blanket made for a massive improvement, and so she settled in for the long wait.


	3. Portent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Few know Orion like Vaylin does; they never see the tired man. But there are things even she doesn't see.

It was rare for her father to come home these nights. He worked tirelessly in the many clinics and hospitals that had been erected in Blackfurrow by him and the Graven he trusted most to tend the patients. They were cramped, crowded, and not as clean as they needed to be, but they were the best they could offer with what little they had, and it was more than any noble was doing. Orion was a hero to the people of Blackfurrow and beyond. He tended their wounds, eased their troubles with gentle words, and fought to give them a future free of the Baron’s iron rule.

But it was hard for Vaylin to see a hero sitting at the table that was crammed into their tiny kitchen. All she could see was a man exhausted from fighting to keep people alive day in and day out. She saw the despair in his eyes, the ever increasing grey in his hair and beard, the deepening lines in his face, and the way he slumped over the table with his head in his hands, likely lamenting those he had failed to save that day.

And she was the only one ever allowed to see him that way, the only one who knew that the tired man existed. It’s how she knew that what she did at home was as important as what she did out in the City. If pouring his tea and making a meal for him to come home to helped to keep him fighting, she’d have a cup and a meal ready every time he walked in the door, and some choice bits of information that she would give to him when the worst of his exhaustion had ebbed away.

He gave her a worn smile as she set the gently steaming cup in front of him.

“Just the way you like it,” she said warmly. “We even had a little sugar to spare.”

“My dear, you spoil me,” he chuckled as he sipped the tea. “Ah… What did I ever do to deserve such a wonderful daughter?”

“You raised me this way, remember,” she laughed.

He simply clasped her hand with his much larger one, smiling gently. She could feel the calluses on his palm and fingers, the dry cracks in his skin from relentlessly scrubbing between patients. 

She couldn’t remember them ever being any different. He’d worked in hospices and back alley clinics before she’d even been born, and it was all he had ever done. His hands were a reflection of himself; relentlessly tortured by work, but pushing onwards regardless. Was it any wonder her mother had always compared him to a shark? Never stopping, always on the move, always needing to be doing something.

Her smile wavered and she pushed down the memory as she turned back to the stew pot. 

She had taken a chance and visited the marshes today. She hadn’t gone far in, just hugged the edges, but it had still given her the opportunity to gather some hard-to-come-by ingredients, and she had decided to set them aside especially for tonight. The rare night when she knew that he’d be coming home from a long hard fight in the clinics.

Orion continued to sip his tea as Constantine hopped into his lap and Vaylin kept herself busy at the pot. She reached into her satchel and picked out some plantain leaves she’d come across during her walk.

 _Liar_.

“What?” 

She turned to look over her shoulder at her father, who simply looked confusedly back at her.

“I thought you said something,” she elaborated.

“I didn’t say anything dear,” he replied.

She frowned thoughtfully for a moment, shrugged, and turned back to the plantain which she began to cut up. She put it to one side and reached for the arrowhead tubers, and as her fingers brushed the roundest one, she heard it again.

_Liar._

She said nothing to her father this time, just tried to act like all was well as she placed the tuber in front of her and held the knife to it.

**_Liar._ **

She cut, but the words were already burned in her mind. She didn’t know if she had heard them or thought them, but they were there regardless. It made her feel… uncomfortable. Nothing good came from thoughts that weren’t your own. Not these days.

She continued to slice the tubers as if nothing was wrong, adding them to the pot before giving it a good mix. 

The meat was a mystery, as it always was these days. With the extermination and burning of the City’s livestock, good meat was a rare commodity, and only the rich could afford the good stuff that was imported into the City. The rest of the City limped by on what little the butchers could source and sell to those who no longer cared _what_ they ate, so long as they did. And those who had a source who was brave enough to venture into the marshes, and skilled enough to survive and bring something back with them, would never let slip such a valuable resource to their competition. Such individuals had always been rare and these days they were even rarer.

What she would give for her mother to still be here…

“Vaylin?”

She looked up, suddenly aware that he had said her name several times and was now looking mildly concerned as he rose from his seat.

“Are you alright?” he asked, placing the back of his hand to her forehead.

She gave herself a shake.

“I’m fine. Just… missing her, is all,” she said softly. Then added with a laugh, “and I need to catch up on some sleep. Connie and I had a run in with a Watch patrol last night.”

His eyes widened.

“The Watch? What happened? Did you get hurt?”

He held her by the upper arms, looking her up and down for any sign of injuries that needed tending. She just laughed, a little forcefully but not entirely ungenuine.

“I’m fine. We had to hide for a few hours until we could make it back here, but we managed. Even ran into Garrett. He helped us out,” she added, purposefully skating over the part where she hid in the Clocktower that was his hideout. No need to go spreading that around and breaking whatever fragile thimble of trust the Master Thief had extended to her by letting her stay in the first place.

Orion looked genuinely surprised at that.

“Garrett? That was… That was good of him.” He nodded, as if reassuring himself. “I’m glad you’re alright. I’d hate to think of anything happening to you. Losing your mother…”

He trailed off and they stood in silence, knowing they were both thinking the same thing. 

Vaylin’s mother, Leanna, had disappeared years ago and left no trace behind. No note, no belongings (not that she’d ever had many), not even a wisp of hair on her pillow. If people hadn’t come asking about her, it would have been easy to believe that she had simply never existed in the first place.

Even now, they didn’t often discuss her, and when they did, or Vaylin found herself thinking of Leanna, she told herself that if her mother could have come back, she would have. Better a comforting lie that helped her to sleep a little easier than an uncertain truth that kept her up at night.

“Well. I’m fine.” She nodded confidently, before she added, “and making stew. I shouldn’t let it burn.”

They parted, Orion still nodding to himself before he resumed his seat and Constantine resumed his own, and Vaylin returned to stirring the stew pot. It was smoking a little, but not badly so it was okay for now.

But when she was adding the plantain leaves to the pot, it happened again. That thought that wasn’t her own forming in her mind, as if it was being whispered into her ear by a silent voice.

_Listen._

She was tired. That was all. Tired and ready for a better night’s sleep than she’d had last night. The Gloom was characterised by _hearing_ voices, not having strange thoughts that consisted of single words. It was no big deal, and if the problem persisted… well she was stressed. By the Watch, by Constantine, by this whole situation. It would go away when it was all over.

_Wrong._

Her hands hovered over the pot before slowly taking up the spoon to stir the stew. 

“It’s all going to change very soon.”

She paused as her father spoke. His voice was still cracked and weary with exhaustion, but there was a slither of something else there. Not his old determination but something different… Certainty? 

“Finally… it’s all going to change.”

She stirred the pot, pretending not to hear him talking to himself. He was just tired. It happened sometimes.

**_Wrong_** **.**


	4. Woodsie Folk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A troubled Vaylin goes to meet with an old friend to get some advice.

Sometimes it was hard to tell if she was going mad or not. Thoughts that weren’t her own, ideas, little bits of memory; they popped into her head and she didn’t know what to make of them. She only knew they weren’t  _ her’s _ .

It was rare to see anyone on the city outskirts. Partly because of the lockdowns and quarantines, and partly because there wasn’t anything out there that was worth the venture for most folk. It was a place where stone made way for the marshes and swamps, where buildings petered out into makeshift hovels where only the most desperate would try to survive, and trees formed a dense wall that repelled intruders and attempts to bring civilization to the wilds. Not that building anything of substance was even possible; with invisible waterways under thick carpets of algae that masqueraded as grass, mud that refused to carry much more weight than a single person at a time, and, of course, the few inhabitants that called it home were willing to fight to the death to keep it wild and free.

The Marsh-Dwellers were considered an odd lot who refused to bow to the ways of the Cityfolk and their Iron Tyrant, and preferred to run feral in the wilds. They were a common boogeyman in the City’s fairytales, wild savages who would climb through windows and spirit away bad children to offer them up as sacrifice to their equally savage Old God, the Trickster, who would eat their skin and twist their bones into abominations that would prowl the marshes that would drag intruders to their doom.

And while that was certainly all propaganda meant to deter anyone from sympathising with or even joining the Marsh-Dwellers, but they  _ were _ deadly when trifled with. There was a reason they had a reputation for being silent killers.

When Vaylin strayed close to the edges of the marsh, the first thing she did was sit herself on a broad tree root. Constantine leapt nimbly from her shoulder and landed neatly on the root to wait while she pulled off her boots. The leather wasn’t boiled like a Watchman’s, but it was still hardened enough that it wasn’t perfect for moving through the marsh quietly. But she wasn’t foolish enough to walk around barefoot.

Reaching into her satchel, she pulled out a pair of old shoes, and she slipped them on over her feet. The inside lining was made from soft, molded leather while the outside was made entirely from moss that muffled any noise she would make while walking. Her mother had made them for her years ago in advance, ready for her to grow into. They were perfect for sneaking around noiselessly. 

She tucked her boots into her satchel and slid down from the tree root. Consantine made a small ‘mrrp’ noise to indicate that he was ready. She nodded back, and the pair began their venture.

The swamp was quieter than the City by far, but it wasn’t silent. The wind moaned between the boughs of the trees, birds whistled in the branches high above, and if one listened carefully enough, they could hear the delicate buzzing of insect wings, but Vaylin herself moved without a sound, her mossy shoes cushioning her footfalls and muffling every step into near silence. She knew the tricks of the swamp well enough to venture between the trees safely. One of the advantages of her rather unique upbringing.

Vaylin’s mother had been, to some extent, one of these strange Marsh-Dwelling folk. Or at least as much one of them as any City dweller could be. Having grown up on the fringes in between, she stepped between both worlds, half-caste. 

As an orphan living in a hovel on these very outskirts, she had met a young man one day in a moment of particularly hopeless desperation, and he felt unusual pity for her.

While most City orphans learned to pick pockets and run messages, Leanna learned to track prey and kill it, to recognise which plants were edible, medicinal, or just deadly, and how to ward away creatures that might think to make her their next meal. And while many of those same orphans died or became petty criminals, Leanna would venture into the wilds and return with treasures that she bartered with for things that couldn’t be found in the wilds. 

It was no small wonder that she became so very popular amongst the poor in the City. She gave them a means to survive, and all she asked for was whatever they could afford to trade.

Then she met Orion - who had been Aldous in those days - who was in dire need of precious rare herbs that grew only in the deepest parts of the swamps to treat a dying child in the hospice. Leanna brought those herbs and more, the child survived and returned to health, and the pair developed a working relationship from there. 

Love came later, and then so did Vaylin.

With a mother as wild as Leanna, and a father as determined as Orion, was it any wonder that she had grown to be what she was?

Up ahead Constantine had paused to wait for Vaylin to catch up, his tail flicking back and forth. For a cat, that could mean he was happy or annoyed, and since there was no Watchman trying to accost or shoot him, Vaylin guessed it was the former. 

Afternoon sun broke through the clouds and filtered in through the canopy. The air almost seemed to glow green as the light bounced off of the swamp, and the warmth forced Vaylin to shed her scarf before she began to shed buckets. It was like a whole other world from the City. Even in the daylight the cold stones sapped the warmth from the sun and the hard edges cast harsh shadows, and that was without the Gloom and the Baron’s Watch and the constant barrage of death day-in and day-out. The marshes might be dangerous, but life thrived here, whereas in the City it struggled. Here was where Vaylin felt the most at ease.

Almost like she was home.

Constantine was more at home in the swamps than he was in the City too. He never touched the ground, leaping from one tree root to the next, and his front paws - which were a snowy white - were still meticulously clean. He knew his way around as if he had lived in the swamp his entire life.

More than once, Orion had joked that he had been a wild cat in some previous life and remembered his ancestral home as clear as day. Sometimes Vaylin wondered if there was anything to that. 

But it wasn’t why they were here. They were looking for a particular Marsh-Dweller. And he was never hard to find unless he didn’t wish to be found.

Vaylin pursed her lips and whistled a few notes, mimicking bird song convincingly enough that the birds in the canopy above began to whistle in reply, likely believing her to be some competing male trying to win over the females.

It did the job though.

“Been a while since you last visited me,” Larkspur said, appearing so suddenly he might have popped up out of the earth.

He was older now, dark skinned with markings tattooed across his face. He wore tanned hides and fur and an earring carved from bone. The crop of dark hair on his head was peppered with silver and grey, and lines were drawn deep at the corners of his eyes, like crows feet, and rimming his mouth as well. Lines made from a long life filled with laughter and cheer as opposed to just hard work or stress. 

He did work hard out in the marsh though; the tone and strength of his body spoke for themselves, as did the longbow he had slung over his shoulder. Only a strong person could wield such a weapon effectively, and Larkspur was as strong as he was cunning, and that was the key to his longevity.

He did smile at the sight of her though, reaching over to scratch Constantine behind the ears. The cat purred loudly, pressed his head firmly against Larkspur’s palm and gladly giving him access to his chin. His tail swayed back and forth, and Larkspur’s grin widened a little before he looked back to Vaylin.

“There’s something you need, Viktoria?” 

Viktoria was her birth name, one she hadn’t used since her father returned from his long imprisonment in Moira where the Baron had interrogated him for his knowledge of the Primal (that was what she had been led to believe, anyway). And while she used the name Vaylin for her own safety in the City, there was no need for it out here.

“Guess I just wanted someone to talk to about a… problem I’ve been having. Someone who won’t just assume Gloom when I tell them.” She smiled at Larkspur. “And you’ve not steered me wrong yet.”

Larkspur’s features became stern.

“Perhaps not. But never assume I’ll always see you right,” he said warningly.

“I know.”

She took a deep breath, wondering where to begin. 

Well she knew when she had first started to notice; a few nights ago when she and her father had finally managed to share a meal together. But ever since she’d started to pay attention, she wondered if it had been happening longer than she’d realised.

Every now and then, she had thoughts that weren’t her own. Sometimes it was a single word, but sometimes it was more. The difference was that she noticed now.

Just this morning she had sat watching Burke haranguing a shopkeeper for some non-existent offense, and the thoughts formed so quickly that, had she not been paying attention, she would have easily passed them off as her own. But instead she focused on the thoughts rather than the man, and little bits of information began to dribble through that she simply hadn’t known before.

Not once had her friends had told her that Burke abused his son. It didn’t surprise her in the slightest considering what she knew of the man, but she didn’t know  _ where  _ the knowledge had come from. 

If it was the Gloom, then she was going mad and would be dead within the week. But ever since she had began to pay attention to her symptoms she realised that none of it fit with what the Gloom was  _ supposed _ to do.

Namely she wasn’t hearing voices the way most people seemed to. There were no whispers in her ears egging her on into madness, no visions so horrible that she felt compelled to gouge out her own eyes to keep herself from seeing them, and there was no compulsion to mutilate herself beyond reason if it meant that it would finally stop. 

Just things she would pass off as her own judgements, or things she must have heard from her friends but had simply forgotten.

As she explained her experiences to Larkspur, he remained silent and contemplative, and they walked the swamp as they went.

Constantine remained in the lead, as light and sure-footed as his wilder cousins, and if Vaylin had been paying closer attention, she might have noticed one such cousin deciding against venturing too close despite being several times larger than the black and white house cat was.

“I’ve heard stories of our ancestors speaking with nature,” Larkspur mused, tapping his chin. “Back when we called ourselves the Folk o’ the Woodsie. Perhaps nature is trying to talk with you, but it can only talk so much in a city of stones.”

Vaylin frowned at him.

“How could nature be talking to me? I’m not one of you,” she pointed out, careful to step over a fallen log that might have been a crocodile though she didn’t pause to check. It didn’t move. That was good enough. 

Larkspur shrugged.

“Nature doesn’t need to make sense,” he said nonchalantly. “City Heads want it to follow rules, so they make some up. Nature doesn’t care for fake rules. If it wants to talk to you, it will.”

The rest of their walk carried on in silence until they returned to the edge of the swamp, back where nature met stone in a no man’s land of muck and moss and wood and cobblestones. 

Larkspur lingered only a moment longer than necessary as Vaylin hoisted herself back over the tree root, her boots still covered in a thick layer of moss that still muffled her steps. 

“Watch the skies, Viktoria. Even I feel it. Something big is coming to your city of stone,” he said, casting a disapproving eye towards the high walls and buildings in the distance.

“I know… I feel it too,” she confessed, not even flinching as Constantine leapt up to curl himself around her shoulders again, paws still pristine white.

“Don’t doubt yourself. If nature is trying to talk to you, it’s for a good reason,” Larkspur added. Then, with a mischievous grin he added, “and try not to think like a stupid City Head next time we talk.”

Vaylin pulled a face, but within a blink of an eye he was gone again, swallowed up by the trees. She turned away, back towards her city of stone, her back to the marsh where Larkspur watched with a sad gaze.

“Be careful, Viktoria,” he murmured. “Cities of stone never hold good fortunes for the Folk o’ the Woodsie.”

**Author's Note:**

> Vaylin is an OC of mine (obviously) who you can learn a bit more about in her [tumblr tag](https://nightingaletrash.tumblr.com/tagged/vaylin), as well as her feline companion Constantine.


End file.
